The Hero
by Hutchie
Summary: A "Tenspeed and brown shoe" fic    Episode based, E.L.'s thoughts


**The Hero**

**by Allie**

1119 words

Rating: G

_(A "Tenspeed and brown shoe" fic)_

_(Episode based, E.L.'s thoughts)_

E. L. could charm the birds out of the trees. Could run a scam and keep running. He had, for a long time, till the law caught up with him. When it did, he found out the things he could count on: not a whole lot.

In fact, there was nobody in his life who didn't drop him like a hot potato.

Well, he was out of jail now, trying to turn his life around—trying this detective thing with Whit, using his powers as a con artist on the side of the angels. Mostly.

And he'd found one person he could count on no matter what.

Sometimes Lionel Whitney might seem like an overgrown child—enthusiastic about his favorite detective stories, thinking life should conform to them, and that the good guys would always win, that things were always black and white, strictly good or completely evil.

He was terrible with money. His weird brand of morality interfered with work—all the cases he wouldn't take, the times he'd try to return their fee because the client needed it more, the lies he wouldn't tell. Or, when he did try to play along with whatever story E. L. would concoct, he'd do such a bad job that a fifth grader could've done better than his wooden agreement and overacted playing of parts. He needed lessons in lying, that man did.

But he would never abandon E. L., even to save himself. He'd even go back for a man who tripped and fell while running from gunmen. Even if it got him shot.

E. L. could've smacked him upside the head when Lionel did that. For him.

Lionel needed a keeper! He shouldn't be let out alone! Honestly, the tall, gawky man with the big geeky smile and the worried expressions alternating with gleeful moments of celebrating his fantasy world view of life—he needed looking after.

But afterwards…when Lionel was all right and tight, bandaged and treated and looking quite proud of his bullet wound, E. L. had done some hard thinking.

Because there was no one, in his life, before or since jail, who would take a bullet for him. Except Lionel.

Lionel wasn't even acting like it was a big deal. For him, it wasn't. E. L. was his friend and partner—that made going back for him automatic—part of that Code. Part of Lionel, because E. L. had learned by now, separating Lionel from that part of himself—the intensely moral, slightly strange part—was impossible.

Which meant…Lionel would always be here for E.L.

Always.

Unless E. L. could find some way to mess this up, too. He'd certainly burned a lot of bridges with his cons, taking things just a little too far from time to time, telling smooth lies.

Oh, he'd done it to Lionel, too—and then faced that disappointed look, that righteous indignation and hangdog expression mixed together. That was an uncomfortable feeling, though he always managed to get back in Lionel's good graces—or at least distract him till he got over E.L.'s breach in Private Eyeness and Being A Force For Right.

Sometimes, when Lionel talked, it sounded like he was capitalizing his words, like it was that important to him. E. L. had certainly played a lot of outraged and important characters in his life—people who would Capitalize Everything They Said. But Lionel was the first REAL person he'd ever met like that. A man who really meant what he said. Who'd back it up by taking a bullet for you.

For him. For E. L. The ex-con man who was sometimes still a con man; and Lionel knew it. E.L. was trying to improve his life and sometimes—okay, often—falling down on the job. But Lionel would never, never give up on him as a friend, as a business partner or as a private eye.

E. L. hoped that was true. He'd been beginning to suspect it for a while. But never as strongly as this. It made his heart sort of lift—if you wanted to get sappy about it. Which he didn't, never wanted to say anything about this ever again.

Certainly couldn't say thank you, at least not with words. He would just look after Lionel till his arm was better. Lionel already acted so proud of this bullet wound—a real bullet wound that would leave a scar and everything—that you couldn't say any word of thanks or he'd get a swelled head, probably be even less careful of danger the next time it came up. Which it would.

Danger was a mixed bag for E.L. You needed a little or your life would get far too stale. Too much, and it got damned uncomfortable, running for your life all the time or ending up in jail.

But just the right amount was difficult to get, especially when working with a partner who could be sometimes as clueless and old fashioned as Lionel. And in working with himself, because he could sometimes push things just a little too far.

All he knew was that there was no one else he'd rather face danger with, and if he could ever repay Lionel, he'd try to do so. Because Lionel was always going to be the man by his side, with his set of storybook morals that somehow worked out better than most people's reality-based lifestyles. Because at least Lionel was happy. And because in his own way, Lionel always made a difference.

E.L. could get choked up if he kept thinking like this. He pushed open the door and carried the tray in to Lionel, keeping a smile on his face. "How's the hero?" he asked.

Lionel looked up at him, and grinned one of his full-faced grins, a smile that mixed shyness and deep pride.

"You're really proud of that bullet hole, aren't you?"

Shyly, Lionel nodded. In his eyes were all the stars that spoke of his satisfaction with this life. He was, in his own eyes, 'really' a private eye now. If anything, he would probably thank E.L. for the opportunity to get a real wound. He'd never think even for a second that E.L. owed him now.

And that made E.L. love him more than ever. For a moment Lionel burned like a bright gleaming sun in his universe, a powerful and wonderful force of nature, brilliant beyond belief.

Then he was just Lionel again, friend and partner and someone who needed looking after. E.L. sat down on the side of the bed to keep him company while he ate and tease him a little if his spirits should get low.

That was what friends did.


End file.
